


broken before memory

by pearypi_e



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Incoherent, absolutely incoherent, alexa how do i tag that, shitty crypter penthouse au, toy car (character)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypi_e/pseuds/pearypi_e
Summary: Servant Summoning Ritual. Take twenty-four. Notes: nothing. Changes: nothing. Results: nothing.
Relationships: Ophelia Phamrsolone & Hinako Akuta | Yu Mei-ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	broken before memory

**Author's Note:**

> this one makes no sense, but it'll make even less sense if you aren't spoilered for lb3. if you haven't read it, i would not recommend you read this just yet. come back later. i'll pour you a drink when you do.

_awake?_

_again?_

_what's the first thing you remember?_

“There’s a toy car stuck in the ceiling.” Hinako’s voice is flat, carrying an edge of annoyance, as if she is somehow operating on a separate plane of material existence. Ophelia’s blouse is horribly wrinkled from sitting down in her desk chair and taking notes for 3 hours straight, and she’s only 72% done with her work and she has a deadline  _ tomorrow _ . What she does not have is time. Or patience, to deal with her roommates and their favorite haunted Lighting McQueen toy car. It’s winter. The air’s cold. The sky is grey. Her mouth remains stubbornly dry no matter how much water Ophelia swallows, and she hates it. 

She doesn’t think the toy car is haunted, but having a grave so poorly made that you’d prefer a coffin of drywall in comparison would be enough cause for many to choose to stick around and haunt an old penthouse, or so Kirschtaria would say. In the frequent absence of the man’s presence, she’s been asking herself  _ ‘What would Kirschtaria do?’ _ far more often than actually asking him for his own opinion. She’d think that living in the same house as him for about a year would have deepened her understanding of him, but it has not. Evidently.

She frowns, trying to make sense of the information given to her. “What?” She wheezes, her wrists aching. She has 9 notebook pages filled with today’s research. She takes another look at her scribbles. Servant Summoning Ritual. Take twenty-four. Notes: nothing. Changes: nothing. Results: nothing. It’s all a matter of copying, not recording. Every day brings the same answers. So what?

Hinako sighs. “They set up a racetrack. It broke midway, but by then the car had built up enough velocity to shoot straight into the ceiling.” She doesn’t even need to say who ‘they’ is. Ophelia can easily guess. 

Hinako isn’t even visible to her, nor is she visible to Hinako; as if they’re both on different planes of existence. That sounds like something Daybit would say. Is what you think somebody would do a suitable substitute for their own presence? If you’re Ophelia, then probably. She’s too busy taking notes to go out and ask them herself.

“Oh.” She mumbles. Not out of shame, just a lack of emotion. Maybe a little emotion, at the fact that she’s gotten used enough to their antics to not feel a thing. “I can take care of it,” She says, raising her voice a little. “I’m sorry.” 

Who is she apologizing to? Not Hinako. Herself, maybe. For what?

\---

“The ceiling is thinner than I thought it was. The car must’ve been going very fast.” Ophelia tucks herself deeper under the blankets. “It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight. Not sure how we’re supposed to mop things up…” 

Hinako shrugs. She supposes it’s her fault for forgetting to tell Ophelia that Kirschtaria, Kadoc and Beryl had chosen Ophelia’s room as the setting for their racetrack, not Ophelia’s fault for having the cleanest room (and therefore the most floor space). Hinako rolls over in her own bed, then jumps as her elbow brushes another.

Ah, right. She didn’t have an extra futon, so she had decided to just let Ophelia sleep next to her. In her bed. This is fine, honestly, despite her being a  _ human _ \-- Ophelia has never really done anything to provoke Hinako’s ire. They’ve been living in the same house for a year now. They’re both girls. This is completely fine. 

Ophelia is a Clock Tower student who studies Spiritual Evocation. Summoning. Spirit summoning. Can she summon the dead? Probably. Pulling beings from a separate plane of existence should be an easy task for her.

But unlike Ophelia, she doesn’t bother with asking herself what another person would do. The other person is right in front of her, after all. And she’s  _ definitely _ not sleeping. 

“Can you summon the dead?” She asks, voice frank. It’s winter. The air’s cold. The sky is black. 

“It depends.” Ophelia replies, then pauses. “Did you lose someone?” Hinako can’t see her face in the dark, but she knows if she did she would be staring at a mask of pity. Absolutely  _ not _ . 

“No.” She snaps, then hesitates and softens her tone. “I was just asking out of curiosity. Aren’t you supposed to be a prodigy?”

“Well, yes, but…” Hinako grinds her teeth in frustration. “But?”

Ophelia yawns, like a cat on a weekend. “It depends on who the person is. Reviving most people would likely fall under the domain of Necromancy, but there are exceptions.”

“Like what?” Hinako demands. 

“If they’re a hero embedded in legend, or a figure who benefited humanity as a whole, then they’d ascend to the Throne of Heroes upon death. You can summon spirits from the Throne of Heroes as Servants. Familiars. The strongest kind of familiar you can have, but the amount of mana it takes is nothing to sneeze at…” Her voice trails off at the end. Hinako opens her mouth to ask another question. 

“I’m going to sleep now. I’m a little bit tired.” Blurts Ophelia. “Alright.” Sniffs Hinako, suddenly annoyed, or maybe annoyed all along and only now realizing it. “Good night.”

\---

Servant Summoning Ritual. Take twenty-five. Notes: nothing. Changes: nothing. Results: Upset roommate and annoyed Director. Nothing. At this point, any sort of change is welcome with her. She’s tired.

\---

She had been watching the rain pelt against the window when she heard the crash. It took her a second to realize that Lightning McQueen was no longer on the racetrack, but using it as a springboard, and another second for her to see it make itself comfortable in Ophelia’s ceiling. Stupid haunted car. Stupid ghost who lives in the car. Stupid separate plane of existence that houses ghosts. She didn’t do anything when she saw the boys panic. That’s a lie. She rushed over to Ophelia’s office. 

There’s a toy car stuck in the ceiling, she said. A clap of thunder echoed. Ophelia started mumbling to herself. 

She had been watching the rain when the race car had shot into the ceiling, but she had also been thinking, an activity many would be surprised to find she sometimes engaged in. Reading a book was an excellent way to not be noticed by others, even if she was staring right at them. Even if she was literally reading it sideways, nobody noticed. Ophelia didn’t even need a book to separate herself. From who? Herself, probably. She must have been afraid. So what?

Humans were liars, even to themselves. Thus the mumbling. Thus the separation. 

She offers her a place to sleep while Pepe forces the others to figure out a way to dry the floors. Out of curiosity? For a liar, why not.

\---

They’ve patched up the wall.

Remarkably quickly, too. Kirschtaria ended up footing the repair bill. Ophelia can go back to her own room. Hinako doesn’t bother to ask how they managed to dry the floor, so long as they managed. If Kirschtaria was the one who arranged for the repair, how would it have gone? Maybe like this: Kirschtaria calls a taxi and makes his way to the industrial district. He finds a guy. His name is Lewis. Lewis stares at him like he just asked him to kill a man. What do you mean you want me to fix this ceiling, He asks. I mean I want you to fix this ceiling, he replies. So Lewis does.

But thinking about a person isn’t really an acceptable substitute for the real thing, if you’re Hinako. You’ve had centuries to come to that answer. Is she afraid? Of who? What? Ghosts? She shouldn’t be. They’re gone forever. 

She knocks on her door. Once. Twice. She’s asking him a question. It’s winter. The air’s cold. His hand on her shoulder is warm. He crumbles into dust, but the warmth remains. He’s always here, despite the separation. It doesn’t matter if it isn’t really him. 

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe me if i said i tried to make this light-hearted
> 
>   
> loosely inspired by this, if you have no idea what to picture: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/224052023878877185/801473440208519188/Smacc.mp4 
> 
> come punch me @pearypi_e on twitter


End file.
